#wouldn't it be so so cool if we could pull that off

[elytrafemme]

mission: see your girlfriend on saturday without informing anyone that it is your 6 month anniversary date (dubiously possible)

[cinammonelles]

I want to talk about this page in particular because the implications here are so riveting.

Lavi is currently 19. Allen is believed to be 16.

Which means that either

The Bookmen are lying

Bookman Jr. did die then and Allen either didn't age the first few years or his age got fucked up multiple times before he met Mana

The first seems highly improbable at this point tbh. If the Bookmen were planning to make Allen take the poison to make him remember his past then lying about when Past!Junior (presumably) died seems counterintuitive and would only make Allen mistrust them more once he was in full possession of his memories.

It doesn't seem like Allen de-aged to an infant. He says his earliest memories are from when he was in the circus. Even if he did age back to an infant, he would've needed caretakers and nothing in the story suggests he had any.

(Note how little Allen doesn't have his Innocence in the last panel. What the fuck does this mean Hoshino.)

Allen looks perhaps 4-5 in both of these panels. If Past!Junior died over 19 years ago and Allen aged linearly since then, then he would have to be 23+ by now. Even considering the possibility that he aged back to an infant, he he should be 19+ by now and he looks barely over 17.

We can assume that he must've aged in a somewhat even fashion once he joined the circus because otherwise the performers would've commented on it at some point of time.

What happened in the years between Junior dying and little Allen getting into the circus? Was he in a child's body till he acquired his Innocence? How did he even acquire his Innocence in the first place?

There's also a final possibility that came to me while I was writing this post— Lavi was born while Past!Junior was still alive. He was born with the 'mark' because Past!Junior was no longer fit to be a Junior. I genuinely have no idea how Hoshino will explain this. Will it be some sort of corruption? Memory loss? Chronic illness?

All of them seem equally unlikely options at this point. But so did the possibility of Allen and Bookman Jr. being different people before this chapter :)

Either ways, this was a very intriguing chapter and I'm looking forward to whatever Hoshino has in store for us.

[greenerteacups]

What do you think of jkr as a writer? I for one has always felt like she didn’t treat her female characters well. It felt strange, being critical of her when she was god queen of the earth, and also being 10

I think most of the problems in her books can be chalked up to genre hopping. Books 1-3 are perfectly good and serviceable children's books — great children's books, even! They have compelling, relatable characters and juicy mystery plots. They have problems, sure, but for the first three books someone's ever written — especially someone with little or no background in creative writing — they're really fucking good. So: there's her flowers.

The last four books pivot sharply into much more emotionally complicated and sociopolitically loaded territory, because they're describing a war. And it's hard to write children's books about war. I would venture you can't really do it, at least without dramatically misrepresenting what war is! And so Rowling makes the executive decision somewhere during the writing of Book 4 that she's not going to flinch away from that, she's going to go for dramatic realism, and she kills Cedric Diggory to let us know. People had died in Harry Potter before, of course — Quirrell gets sent to the fucking shadow realm, for example. But children haven't. (It also gives parents who are reading these books with their children a warning shot: shit is about to get significantly more real, think twice before you buy the next one of these for your 10-year-old.) After that, Rowling starts leaning much more into dramatic realism, and the fast-paced mystery-novel plotting of the first few books is replaced by a slow, simmering political conflict that unfurls over the course of about a million words.

The problem — besides the fact that she's picking one of the hardest things to write about, like, in all of literature, war is really insanely complicated and emotionally intense and hard to portray well — is that she's now trying to use characters, plot points, and technologies she developed for a children's series to enact a sprawling war drama among teenagers and adults. So Hermione, who was a reasonably precocious snobby eleven-year-old, becomes this sort of encyclopedic all-knowing savant of the wizarding world, who somehow remains functional and mostly even-headed despite her identity being the chief target of a prolifically murderous terrorist group. Draco Malfoy, a schoolyard bully whose primary tools included 1. namecalling and 2. telling teacher, JOINS said terrorist group (and admittedly does react reasonably, i.e., has a total crashout and takes to sobbing in a girls' bathroom whenever he gets a free minute). Dumbledore, who starts out as "whimsical friendly winky-wink trustworthy grandfather type", ends up being Magical Winston Churchill in a violent game of spycraft and espionage, eventually revealing he's only been keeping Harry at all these seven years because he wants to KILL him! And like, maybe really good technical writing could smooth out these transitions and make the first-order dramatic choices seem more natural, but Rowling is like, a Fine Writer, technically speaking. meaning she's reasonably consistent in characterization, her plotting is well-paced and believable, she has a clear authorial voice, and her prose is readable. personally, that's not enough to get me to buy into some of the changes that happen in the later books, and because she stuffs these things so full with new elements every installment, a lot of stuff ends up getting glossed over.

And like, I still love the books. I think they're wonderful, and they taught me how to read. but i can say that and also say that Rowling probably did herself a disservice by trying to write four giant war novels as sequels to her first three mystery children's books.

[skrunksthatwunk]

not my dad not liking moral orel season 3 🤭🤭🤭that's so embarrassing for him (<- he's not wrong for feeling that way but i think it's like 60% because he doesn't like it when art gets weird and that's so so tragic for him)

[aethersea]

another thing fantasy writers should keep track of is how much of their worldbuilding is aesthetic-based. it's not unlike the sci-fi hardness scale, which measures how closely a story holds to known, real principles of science. The Martian is extremely hard sci-fi, with nearly every detail being grounded in realistic fact as we know it; Star Trek is extremely soft sci-fi, with a vaguely plausible "space travel and no resource scarcity" premise used as a foundation for the wildest ideas the writers' room could come up with. and much as Star Trek fuckin rules, there's nothing wrong with aesthetic-based fantasy worldbuilding!

(sidenote we're not calling this 'soft fantasy' bc there's already a hard/soft divide in fantasy: hard magic follows consistent rules, like "earthbenders can always and only bend earth", and soft magic follows vague rules that often just ~feel right~, like the Force. this frankly kinda maps, but I'm not talking about just the magic, I'm talking about the worldbuilding as a whole.

actually for the purposes of this post we're calling it grounded vs airy fantasy, bc that's succinct and sounds cool.)

a great example of grounded fantasy is Dungeon Meshi: the dungeon ecosystem is meticulously thought out, the plot is driven by the very realistic need to eat well while adventuring, the story touches on both social and psychological effects of the whole 'no one dies forever down here' situation, the list goes on. the worldbuilding wants to be engaged with on a mechanical level and it rewards that engagement.

deliberately airy fantasy is less common, because in a funny way it's much harder to do. people tend to like explanations. it takes skill to pull off "the world is this way because I said so." Narnia manages: these kids fall into a magic world through the back of a wardrobe, befriend talking beavers who drink tea, get weapons from Santa Claus, dance with Bacchus and his maenads, and sail to the edge of the world, without ever breaking suspension of disbelief. it works because every new thing that happens fits the vibes. it's all just vibes! engaging with the worldbuilding on a mechanical level wouldn't just be futile, it'd be missing the point entirely.

the reason I started off calling this aesthetic-based is that an airy story will usually lean hard on an existing aesthetic, ideally one that's widely known by the target audience. Lewis was drawing on fables, fairy tales, myths, children's stories, and the vague idea of ~medieval europe~ that is to this day our most generic fantasy setting. when a prince falls in love with a fallen star, when there are giants who welcome lost children warmly and fatten them up for the feast, it all fits because these are things we'd expect to find in this story. none of this jars against what we've already seen.

and the point of it is to be wondrous and whimsical, to set the tone for the story Lewis wants to tell. and it does a great job! the airy worldbuilding serves the purposes of the story, and it's no less elegant than Ryōko Kui's elaborately grounded dungeon. neither kind of worldbuilding is better than the other.

however.

you do have to know which one you're doing.

the whole reason I'm writing this is that I saw yet another long, entertaining post dragging GRRM for absolute filth. asoiaf is a fun one because on some axes it's pretty grounded (political fuck-around-and-find-out, rumors spread farther than fact, fastest way to lose a war is to let your people starve, etc), but on others it's entirely airy (some people have magic Just Cause, the various peoples are each based on an aesthetic/stereotype/cliché with no real thought to how they influence each other as neighbors, the super-long seasons have no effect on ecology, etc).

and again! none of this is actually bad! (well ok some of those stereotypes are quite bigoted. but other than that this isn't bad.) there's nothing wrong with the season thing being there to highlight how the nobles are focused on short-sighted wars for power instead of storing up resources for the extremely dangerous and inevitable winter, that's a nice allegory, and the looming threat of many harsh years set the narrative tone. and you can always mix and match airy and grounded worldbuilding – everyone does it, frankly it's a necessity, because sooner or later the answer to every worldbuilding question is "because the author wanted it to be that way." the only completely grounded writing is nonfiction.

the problem is when you pretend that your entirely airy worldbuilding is actually super duper grounded. like, for instance, claiming that your vibes-based depiction of Medieval Europe (Gritty Edition) is completely historical, and then never even showing anyone spinning. or sniffing dismissively at Tolkien for not detailing Aragorn's tax policy, and then never addressing how a pre-industrial grain-based agricultural society is going years without harvesting any crops. (stored grain goes bad! you can't even mouse-proof your silos, how are you going to deal with mold?) and the list goes on.

the man went up on national television and invited us to engage with his worldbuilding mechanically, and then if you actually do that, it shatters like spun sugar under the pressure. doesn't he realize that's not the part of the story that's load-bearing! he should've directed our focus to the political machinations and extensive trope deconstruction, not the handwavey bit.

point is, as a fantasy writer there will always be some amount of your worldbuilding that boils down to 'because I said so,' and there's nothing wrong with that. nor is there anything wrong with making that your whole thing – airy worldbuilding can be beautiful and inspiring. but you have to be aware of what you're doing, because if you ask your readers to engage with the worldbuilding in gritty mechanical detail, you had better have some actual mechanics to show them.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Trinkets

Five presents Jason brought you back from his adventures and one you asked for. (+ one) ~1.2k words of fluff

Jason Todd brings you home gifts from his missions, which wouldn't be a problem, but he never really explains what they are.

The first time it happened, you had laughed at the green ring with a lantern symbol in the middle. It looked cheesy, like one of the fake ones you can buy from the superhero merch stores littered around malls and outlets.

You'd kissed his cheek in thanks, put it on your shelf, and never gave it a second thought.

At least you didn't, until a bright green glow woke you up from your sleep. You'd sat up immediately, jaw practically dropping to the sheets as the ring lifted itself off your shelf and flew out the window.

Jason barely budged, his arm still thrown over your waist. He let out yawn and cuddled closer before speaking, voice groggy and heavy, "Huh. Didn't think they noticed that one was gone."

"They," You half yell, voice pitching as you stare at his outline, hidden in the shadows of the room.

"The Guardians, babe," he yawns out, "They're in charge of the space cops. Just go back to sleep."

Naturally, you do not go back to sleep. You drag him to the kitchen, make tea, and demand he explains why a Green Lantern ring was in your apartment. (He's very happy to)

The second time it happens, you're much more wary of the gift he brings home. But to be fair, he can't really pass off an Amazonian steel sword as something he just picked up.

It doesn't take as much convincing as it should for you to let him mount it on your wall. But it's a sword! No one can blame you for thinking it looks cool in your living room.

It turns out keeping it around is pretty useful, because a few weeks later, your boyfriend crawls through your window, dressed head to toe in armor.

"Hey, doll," he drawls, "Can I borrow your sword?"

"Sure," You chirp back, more preoccupied with your book as he saunters over to the sword, "what for?"

"Artie's got confiscated, and we haven't gotten to steal it back yet," he supplies, stopping long enough to pull his helmet up and kiss your head.

"Oh, that sucks," You answer, offhandedly, "Give her and Bizzaro my love."

"You got it, babe," he chirps already halfway out your window.

He does bring your sword back, covered in green blood, but no worse for wear. It still looks great on your wall.

He brings you a box next. It's kind of ugly looking, but you thank him nonetheless.

"Be careful with it," he tells you as you flip it over in your hands, "It opens boom tubes."

You almost drop it, and if you hadn't already experienced the power ring, you would have shrieked at him. Instead, you manage to put it down very carefully and calmly ask, "It does what?"

"Open boom tubes," he answers, which clears absolutely nothing up, "I figured we could use it to country hop for our next date night. You know, dinner in Paris, drinks in Dubai, dessert in LA."

"Okay," You answer slowly, as if that makes complete sense.

It turns out, it does. Date night is lovely, and making out with your boyfriend on a random beach in Spain is very, very nice.

Batman waiting in your apartment to take back the boom box isn't so nice, though.

Jason tells you it was worth it. He's absolutely right.

The third thing Jason brings you is a plant. Flowers aren't a rare show of affection from him, but ones that move are.

"Uh, thank you, Jason," You start, prodding at the moving petals, they nuzzle your fingers the same way a kitten would, "But I don't know how to take care of these."

"Same way you take care of any other plant, water, fertilizer, nutrients, all that fun stuff," he says fondly, stroking a few of the petals.

"What if it gets sick," You ask, uncertain.

"We'll call Ivy," he says, unbothered.

"Right. Ivy. Poison Ivy. Who you know," You mumble, but the little plant is already worming its way into your heart. (You affectionately name it Daisy, for no other reason then it sways happily when you say that name)

The fourth thing Jason brings you makes you laugh because you know exactly what it is, "Jason, we can't keep this."

"Why not," he pleads, shaking the bright green quiver filled with arrows at you.

You giggled harder, smiling wide as you shake your head at him, "We don't even know what those do. Don't some of those explode?"

"So what," he huffs, practically pouting, "We can ask Roy. And it's not like I don't know my way around explosives."

"I guess so," You relent, trying to stifle your laughs as you inspect the bright green arrows, "How did you even get this?"

His eyes light up mischievously, "Do you really want to know?"

You stop short and narrow your eyes at him, "I would lose my plausible deniability."

"But you wanna know," he says, sly and playful.

You do. (It involves mutated chickens, tar, and one distracted Oliver Queen. You hang the quiver next to the sword)

Jason's getting ready to leave, bags packed and helmet lazy held under his arm, "Can I bring you back anything specific, doll" he asks, his free hand resting comfortably against your cheek, "Lasso of Truth? Maybe something with magic?"

You grin at him, leaning into his touch, "I actually do have something in mind."

"Oh," he prompts, eyes glinting with excitement.

"I want to complete my batarang collection."

He falters, "Your– what?"

"No one has," You exclaim, pulling away to showcase your collection, "I have Nightwings, Batgirls, Batmans, yours, of course, one of Robin's. But I'm missing Spoilers, Batwomans, Signals, and Red Robins."

He blinks at you, "That's– if that's what you want."

You giggle at how dumbfounded he looks, practically bouncing back over to him to kiss him, "Thank you, Jason."

He catches your waist and pulls you back in for another, longer kiss that leaves you both breathless and panting. His voice lowers, like it's a secret, "I'll bring you back some batarangs. See you in a few days?"

"See you in a few days," You echo, and he winks at you as he tugs on his helmet, leaving out your window.

Sure enough, you get your batarangs when he gets home. It takes some convincing, a few kisses that leave you senseless, but you get Jason to help you mount your batarang collection alongside the sword and quiver.

"I should get you a plasma rifle next," he drawls, admiring your growing wall of weapons.

"I think I'd fall over if I tried to shoot one of those," You point out, all smiles.

"I'll teach you," he tells you, hooking an arm around your waist to draw you closer.

Jason's a man of his word, and sure enough, he brings you home a plasma cannon after his next mission.

You only destroy most of the shooting range in the batcave when he lets you try it out.

[https-lvesick]

CAUGHT ON CAMERA — starring f!reader x na jaemin (ft. jeno and haechan, the perverts)

jeno and haechan know they can always count on their best friend, jaemin, and that's why they borrow his camera for a project. they just didn't expect to get the wrong camera... and enjoy every second of it.

content 𖹭 jaem!big dick, sex tape (size diff, breeding, stomach bulge, fingering, slight nipple sucking, m!oral + cum eating), m!masturbation

notes 𖹭 another big thanks for my baby @sinisxtea for proofreading this!

it wasn't unusual to see na jaemin walking around the campus carrying a camera and photographing everything he found cool. the devoted photography student had an unique artistic view, in his mind, anything could be turned into art. ordinary objects, situations and even some students were his objects of art, but there was only one thing, precious enough to worth his devotion: you. jaemin's object of adoration. he was so committed to you and to show the beauty of every single thing you'd do, he bought a camera exclusively for you.

that camera was special. It could only support videos and photos of you. you could be doing anything. playing with stray cats, eating, painting your nails, putting on some makeup, but his favourite moments were the intimate ones.

jaemin just... he couldn't handle your preciousness. in every aspect, he felt the need, the urge to capture and keep your beauty. especially when you put on a little show just to show him your new lingerie set. or maybe when you were choking with his cock down your throat, your makeup smudged all over your face. fuck... he could list every video that the camera had ever captured.

and knowing how committed, na jaemin, a third-year photography student, was to his major, donghyeok, his roommate, thought he could borrow one of his cameras for a project.

“did you even ask him for it, you dumbass? what if he took his camera with him?” jeno comments, leaning on the door frame, watching his friend search for one of the most valuable items for jaemin.

“wasn't he just driving his girl home? why does he need a camera for that?” the younger cusses, messing with jaemin's drawer.

“sure, but you know how in love he is and how he just keeps anything she does.” jeno rolls his eyes, almost giving up on convincing his friend to find an object he didn't even ask permission to use.

“finally!” donghyeok laid his eyes on something deep in the closet. he takes the camera and closes the doors.

“i still think that's the worst idea you've ever had. what if jaemin sees a picture of you there? especially if it's on the camera that, again, was deep in his closet.” jeno emphasizes his last words, trying to knock some sense into his friend, but knowing he wouldn't listen, he just adds: “at least check to see if it's charged.”

“that's what i'm trying to do...” donghyeok says focused. the two guys were already sitting in the corner of jaemin's bed. he turned the camera on and you are the first thing they saw, wearing a flowy light blue dress. jaemin and you were on a date and you were showing how to make your boyfriend's favourite sandwich. “how can someone be so pretty...” he murmurs, sighing.

“i don't know...” jeno says, letting himself get lost at the sound of your voice and how your beaming smile could lighten up his whole day. honestly, they can get where all of jaemin's adoration comes from. if he had a girlfriend like you, he'd also keep every single moment to himself. then he realized what he was thinking. “but she's our best friend's girlfriend, right? the camera is fully charged, we can see it, then c'mon.” he stands up, but donghyeok immediately pulls him to sit again.

“c'mon jen, we're already here. this might be the camera he dedicated to her. don't you wanna see more of this... damn sculpture? you sure?” the younger lee skips some photos and videos, stopping at a video where you're wearing a bikini. you were laughing with jaemin while taking off your sundress, talking about going to the water. the focus goes all to your ass, while you walk to the water and they can hear jaemin's mischievous laugh along with a perverted comment.

they knew it wasn't cool to desire their best friend's girlfriend, but were they the ones to blame when you looked that pretty? you looked like some fancy masterpiece sculpted by michelangelo in his peak of inspiration. are they the ones to blame when you looked like aprodithe's daughter yourself, being allowed to live among those poor and useless human beings, gifting them your graciousness? you must be the girl of every guy's dream and they're lucky to have a best friend good enough to win a lotto. at least they get to see you often.

as donghyeok passed the videos, the two guys found themselves more and more immersed in you. and jaemin is completely right to be obsessed with you.

“holy fuck...” haechan whispers, licking his lips before biting his lower lip. jeno comes closer, eyes wide open when he notices what's happening on the video.

“come here.” Jaemin's voice is heard and you comply. you crawl to the corner of the bed, where your boyfriend was, and sit still.

you were wearing an expensive lingerie set that was driving not only one, but three men crazy. the bra hugged your breasts so prettily that they wondered if they'd fit that good in their hands.

“nana... your cock...” you let out a whiny plea. almost purring like a cat. your sparkling eyes, begging your boyfriend to stop flauting you to the camera and to let you suck on him.

it's not that hard to deduce that jaemin may have been lowering his pants.

“haechan, enough.” jeno warns, trying to be rational, but yet his eyes were glued on the little screen that was showing you, kitty licking jaemin's tip, teasing him. you were even rubbing his cock between your breasts, slobbering on it.

“fuck it, he's not here to see what we're doing.” donghyeok says in a low voice, holding the camera in one hand, as the other was lowering his shorts.

“haechan, what the fuck!” the older lee exclaims, completely shocked with his friend's attitude.

“jeno, if you don't wanna stay, then leave. and you better don't open that fucking mouth of yours to jaemin.” he spits on his palm, before dragging it along his shaft, lubricating his length. “but you can't deny the obvious.” haechan laughs, looking at jeno’s pants, before turning his full attention to the video.

jaemin's hand was guiding your head, sucking him off as if it was your life goal. you sucked his tip, forcing your tongue on his slit, making your boyfriend cuss, and squeeze lightly his full balls. he's so fucking good at what he's doing, and so are you. shortly after, he's pulling your hair, prying you off of his cock.

“open that pretty mouth of yours, huh?” he asks, jerking off right on your mouth. In a matter of few seconds, you can taste his salty cum on your tongue and you swallow when he spills more on your boobs.

jeno was standing, thinking about this whole situation. he looked at his friend having fun and looks at his own problem, getting more uncomfortable. the way donghyeok looked so satisfied watching whatever was happening on the screen awakened his interest and desire. fuck, she was his best friend's girlfriend, but... she was fucking pretty and when would he get any opportunity like that again?

“this might be harassment or something like that…” he mumbles, retaking his place beside his friend and frees his cock out of his pants. jeno could see haechan's mischievous smile, so he said first: “don't you even get started, you nasty dog.” even with that said, donghyeok didn't seem very offended, after all, who is he to say anything?

by this time you were already laying in bed, your legs spread for jaemin and the camera, consequently, the two perverts watching that. your glistening cunt gushing your juices, while your boyfriend collected every drop of it with his long fingers, teasing your slit.

“how many?” jaemin asks, threatening to insert the tip of two of his fingers, but never doing it.

“three, nana…” you whine, biting your lower lip, watching your boyfriend smile and tease you, the same way you'd do to him. that's until he inserts the three fingers you requested, all at once.

haechan was sure that sweet, languid, moan would linger in his mind forever. jeno, on the other hand, was sure he will never be able to look at his friend and his girlfriend again. he'd rather throw himself off of the window. as soon as he cums.

with each movement of jaemin's fingers, the wet squelching sound could be heard. it made your eyes roll while jeno and haechan make it an opportunity to fasten their own movements. jeno gulps, looking straight at your wet hole, salivating. fuck, he imagines how good it must be to feel you. he's sure you're tight and nice to be inside of. he tighten his grip, forcing his cock on a tighter hole. haechan also salivates, watching how good you take jaemin's fingers. he stops his hand's movements, thrusting his hips up, imagining it was your pussy he was fucking.

jaemin takes his fingers out of you and the boys could suppose what he was doing. he was tasting you on his own fingers. haechan curses, caressing his balls, and closes his eyes, catching his lower lip between his teeth. jeno slows his rhythm, tracing his fingers along his abs.

your boyfriend hovers over you and kisses you. his free hand traces your body, searching for your bra's clasp, undoing it. you discard the piece, feeling jaemin's wet kisses on your skin, and then you feel his plump lips wrapping around your nipple. you shiver feeling your boyfriend's warm tongue, hugging him.

“jaem…” you call, almost like crying, and jaemin smiles against your skin, understanding well your wish. he pulls the mound of flesh between his teeth making you hiss.

“how could i deny you?” he mocks and stands up, taking off his pants. when he resumes his position above you, he rests his cock on your tummy.

and that's when they realize how smaller than jaemin you are.

“no fucking way! this won't fit, no shit.” donghyeok smiled, clearly having fun. “this might be better than some cheap ass porn i've ever watched in my life.” his eyes lighten up with excitement. jeno only nods, lost in pleasure.

jaemin rubs his tip on your slit, forcing himself slowly. “no matter how many times i fuck you... will you ever open enough for me, darling?” he growls, getting even further inside you.

“jaem, it's too big!” you whine, gripping the bed sheets and closing your eyes, arching your back.

for a moment, your boobs shake and donghyeok loves it, almost losing it. he considers replay that part, but maybe another time, when he's alone.

when jaemin is fully inside you and the bulge is perfectly visible, jeno cums with a grunt. haechan laughs, teasing his friend. “good job, jen! hit it that fast?”

“shut the fuck up, lee donghyeok.” jeno grits his teeth. the truth is, jeno has a thing for bulge. it was the first thing he searched for when he was trying to relieve some stress. it was the first thing he thought when getting laid and now... knowing you were so small that a bulge was surely made on your belly made him see stars.

jaemin moves. starts slow, helping you get used to his size, even if you had done it plenty of times before, he was too big for you, no matter how many times when you were fucked by him, but then he picks up his pace. his hand presses the bulge on your stomach for a while, before gripping your thigh. his rhythm is rough, intense, so much that it makes your breasts move at each snap of his hips. and haechan felt like he was in heaven.

your moans starts to get more desperate and high-pitched. you call your boyfriend's name like a mantra while resting one of your hands on his stomach. jaemin doesn't stop, only picking up his pace, getting even rougher. he feels your pussy gripping his cock, identifying your orgasm. your eyes roll to the back of your skull and your mouth remains wide open for a while until you feel it dry, feeling jaemin squirting all of his seed inside of you.

“you fine, love?” he asks, slowing down his pace, only so you can come down off your high. you can just nod.

jaemin finally turns his camera, focusing right where your bodies meet. he thrusts a few more times, before getting out of you. the moment his cum is seen dripping out of you like a cascade is when haechan loses it, cumming with a whiny moan.

jaemin says something else, but the boys could care less, so donghyeok turns off the camera, putting it on the bed. jeno and haechan remain in silence for a moment.

“this might be the best thing my eyes have ever seen.” “that must be the gayest thing i've ever done.” they say at the same time.

“what?” haechan says.

“c'mon, i saw your cock. plus, i had to hear you moan like a whore. i'm getting insane…” jeno stands up angry, covering his dick again.

“oh, right, 'cause you moan like an alpha, huh?” the younger lee also stands up, bringing the camera with him.

“where do you think you're going with this, haechan?” jeno questions, watching his friend walk past him with the camera in hands.

“if you think i'm not enjoying this pretty little thing right here while i can, you're stupid. and you better not to try and jerk off with me. once was enough.” he says, leaving the room and an astonished jeno behind.

poor jeno, little does he know that haechan won't only watch. maybe he can upload some videos too. seeing jaemin's cock was a little price to pay when he was able to see all of you, spread and wet again.

[jayniks]

Brought The Heat Back (s.jy)

Where you annoy your boyfriend Jake while he's on live.

WC . 0,8k

PAIRING . Idol!jake x girlfriend!reader

WARNINGS . SMUT (MDNI), blowjob (m reciving), tease, public sex if you think about it, handjob, blowjob, a bit of boobjob at the end.

MASTERLIST . enha

"'Jake, is it hot in there?' Actually, yes, a little," Jake stammered, licking his lips as he ran his hand through his hair, small strands of which were sticking to his forehead from the sweat. The live had started, how long ago? Half an hour? Probably more. Of course, it was summer in Korea, it would be reasonable to think that was the reason why he was sweating. However, that wasn't the reason, and Jake was trying to hide it as much as he could but he wasn't God's strongest warrior.

It all started as an innocent movie night where he brought his beloved girlfriend to his room (let's celebrate that now he doesn't have to share one!) to watch some movies before doing a live for Engene. At one point he left to look for the food he had left reheating and, when he returned to the room, he noticed that you were not in bed, but rather next to the desk. He chuckled before sitting down and turning on live to interact with his fandom while he ate. He thought you were going to eat next to him (without the camera seeing you) while he did his daily duties. Little did he know that you would end up eating just not what he thought.

After about 15 minutes interacting with his fandom you decided that you were bored, so you took advantage of a moment where he turned around to sneak unnoticed under the desk. Jake didn't panic until that moment, he was more worried that you had been noticed than what you were doing. He smiled as he read the comments, one caught his curiosity so he decided to read it, "'Jake, what's the best thing about having a room for──." He interrupted himself, dropping his smile as he felt your hands run from his knees, across his thighs, until you reached his waist, where you played with his belt without undoing it yet.

He swallowed dryly as he looked scared at the camera, realizing what he had gotten himself into. He tried to cover it up by saying that 'he had seen a spider', they were going to believe it anyway. Well, let's continue where we were. Jake continued to pretend that everything was fine while you unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants. He lowered his hand, pretending to drop some chopsticks to try to push you away, gently hitting you on the head as if he was saying 'stop, don't do it' while smiling awkwardly at the camera.

After reading some comments that were already noticing his strange behavior, he put his hands on the table again to start his 'date time with your idol' or something like that, I don't know, sometimes he gives his lives strange names... But continuing with Jake, he only managed to carry a few bites of food when he began to cough heavily to hide the moan he had repressed in his throat after you sucked on his tip. As Jake struggles to maintain his composure, your attitude becomes more daring and you move your hands further up his thighs, massaging until you reach his pelvis, and moved down so you folded his sack while gobbling down what you could of your boyfriend's member.

He scans the comments section, takes a sip of water to compose himself before speaking, "we've been trying to learn the choreography in a different way, Niki learned it immediately and wanted to leave earlier," he broke off with a laugh, "but the manager wouldn't let him leave, so-". This time he interrupted himself as he felt the warmth of your throat enveloping him. You looked at him with eyes full of mischief, hoping that he would pay attention to you.

"Oh, Jakey, you're so sweaty today! Shouldn't you cool off instead of making us hotter?" Jake read the comment, trying to maintain his composure. He lets out a nervous laugh and runs a hand through his hair. "Haha, well, you know, it's... really hot in here," he licked his lips as he leaned back in the chair a little, spreading his legs a little to give you more access. In a breathy voice he spoke momentarily "yeah, very hot, very warm...", at the end of the sentence he coughed to keep from letting out the grunts trapped in his throat. You take advantage of his momentary distraction, bobbing your head rhythmically, causing him to bite his lower lip to suppress a moan.

Moving on in the live (as well as your actions) Jake was no longer on earth. All that was going through his mind were the same words all the time, "Jake, don't cum during live." He had hidden it quite well, after all even the members had believed it. Oh, didn't I say that? The members had joined freely through the new weverse option, let's see how long Jake can last when you decided to change the position and slid his cock between your breasts.

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

[sturnsdarling]

'what the fuck is wrong with you?'

{insp by @sturnioz au} fratboy!matt calls smartand'mean'!reader after the fight, telling her she needs to come look after shy!reader, but after she finds out what happened, she lays into fratboy!chris, giving him the reality check he needs.

vibe check: arguing, kinda distressed shy!reader ig, smartand'mean'!reader is a take no shit kinda gal, angsty vibes, lil suggestive at the end

2.3k words

A/N: idk where this idea came from i just really like the idea of smartand'mean'!reader laying into fratboy!chris and him just firming it bc he knows shes right. PART ONE IS HERE

love and cigs, merc

You burst into the party, frantically searching every room for Matt and your best friend. Matt had called you nearly five minutes ago, telling you that your best friend needed you and that there had been a fight, with little to no explanation after. Of course, you came to them immediately, knowing that Matt wouldn't call you if he really didn't need to.

When you finally found them, they were all in a back room of the party, surrounded by smoke and a crowd of people all fawning over the boys as Matt, Nate and Chris were all spread across a sofa in the back, your best friend curled up on Chris lap as he lazily toked on a canon joint, his knuckles purple and a soft grin on his face as you watched your best friend toy with his shirt.

"hey, angel, you got here quick" Matts voice washed over you as he stood up, placing a battered hand on the small of your waist and pulling you into him.

His hand came up to your face in attempts to pull you into a kiss, but his bloody knuckles caught your attention and you took his hand in yours, brows furrowed at his battered hands.

"Matt, what the fuck happened" you spat, looking up at him, his hand still in yours

"ouch, she called him Matt, y'hear that Chris?" Nate said under his breath, Chris chuckled in response and you shot them both a glaring look.

"Some kids tried to give Chris' girl drugs so, we showed them why that was a bad idea" Matt shrugged, looking at you as if it was such a simple thing.

Your attention was immediately on your best friend, your face riddled with concern. You dropped Matts hand and made your way over to her, pulling her up off Chris' lap and into a hug.

"are you okay? why didn't you call me?" you muttered into her hair before pulling away, surveying her face.

She nodded, "I'm okay, Chris and Matt handled it" she smiled at you, just before looking down to Chris, who shot her a wink.

"how did this happen?" you asked, grabbing her attention again as she sat back down on Chris lap.

"they saw me alone and I guess they thought I was an easy target" she began explaining the events of the night, but was quickly cut off by your annoyed tone.

"you left her alone?" you spat, your annoyance directed at Chris, "what the fuck is wrong with you?" you looked at Chris like he was dirt, glaring at him, he just stared back, his tongue pressed to his cheek.

"oh shit" Nate chuckled, "Matt, I think your girl is about to go world star on our boy"

"hey, angel, tone it down a bit, yeah?" Matt said, sitting back down on the sofa and trying to pull you down onto his lap.

You snatched your hand from his, tutting as you shot him a dirty look, returning your serious gaze back to Chris.

"s'cool, Matt, let her say what she wants to say, I can take it" Chris grinned, taking a long toke of his joint and looking at you

"you left her alone, at a frat party, knowing she never comes to these without either you or me? are you psychologically damaged?" you continued to lay into him, his cool and collected demeanour triggering you beyond belief.

"and what? some guys thought she was easy pickins, because, lets face it, she is, and then you lose your shit and have to mark your territory again?"

"hey, I'm not easy pickins" your best friend sulked.

"she could have been seriously fuckin' hurt, Chris, did you even stop for one minute to think about that?" you were burning holes into his face at this point, just waiting for him to respond.

Chris' face dropped at your words, the smug smile on his lips coming to a tight line as he clenched his jaw, avoiding your eye contact. His mind suddenly reeling with all the things those boys could have done to your best friend if Nate hadn't called him when he did.

"of course you fuckin' didnt, because you only ever think about yourself, Chris" you tutted, rolling your eyes and throwing your hands up in accusation at him.

"you know, if you weren't Matts brother, I wouldn't let her come anywhere fuckin' near you, all you ever do is put her in a position to get herself hurt, or worse." you crossed your arms with finality.

Chris shifted uncomfortably where he sat, looking at you and then to your best friend who was already looking at him, apologising for your words with her kind eyes, eyes that only made your words all the more real.

"I'd never let anything happen to her" He said through a clenched jaw, looking up at you, his expression could almost have been mistaken for an apologetic one.

"and plus, we had her back, we fuckin' had those guys easy, they ran away cryin" Matt added, reaching out for you again.

This time you took his hand, bringing your gaze to him, brushing your fingers over his bloody knuckles.

"you think they're the only kids that wanna roofie girls and fuck them at parties? you think she's safe now just because you two fuckin' hot heads gave them a bloody nose and a black eye?" Your words stung, you'd never spoken to Matt like that before, not seriously anyway.

No one said anything, your words hung in the air, making everyone shift and come to the damning realisation of what actually happened tonight.

"I know you think you can protect her from this little fucked up life you've created for yourself here, Chris, but maybe it's time you wake up and realise who she might actually need protecting from" you said, looking him up and down with your final words.

Chris said nothing, only stared at you from under his brow bone with a clenched jaw and a loose grip on your best friends waist.

Matt looked over at Chris and then up at you, both of you teetering on the edge of an explosion he did not want to get caught in the middle of. He stood up, taking your hand in his and standing in front of you slightly, bringing your attention away from Chris.

"lets go have a cig, yeah?" He said, squeezing your hand.

You looked up at him through your lashes, unable to tear your eyes from him as he gazed down at you, his warmth only serving to calm you down.

You nodded with a clenched jaw and let Matt lead you out. As you walked out the room you glanced back at Chris, who was biting the inside of his cheek and blinking rapidly, trying to listen to your best friend apologising on your behalf. He wasn't angry, not at you anyway, he was angry at himself, because he knew you were right.

Once you made it outside, Matt dragged you to a quiet spot, pulling a cigarette from his pack and placing it between your pouty lips, sparking it before pulling one for himself and doing the same.

You took a long drag, your fingers shook slightly from the adrenaline you felt coursing through your body.

"y'know" Matt said, blowing smoke out his mouth before resuming, "I've never heard anyone speak to Chris like that and still be standin' after" a smiled, edging closer to you.

"kid had it comin' for putting her in a position like that" you shrugged your shoulders, taking another long drag of your cigarette.

"He didn't mean for it to happen, you know that right?" Matt said, dipping his head to meet your gaze.

you rolled your eyes, "he never means for shit to happen, Matt, that's the problem, shit follows him around, and one of these days she's gonna get hurt because of it" you looked at him, more serious than you'd ever been.

"what about me then?" Matt said, his face dropping as he stood back from you.

"what about you?" you screwed your face up at him

"if shit follows him, it follows me, he's my brother" Matt added

"and?" you cocked your eyes to the side, not seeing his point.

"y'don't think you'll get hurt one day? bein' around me like this?" Matt looked you up and down as he spoke.

"I can handle myself, Matt, she can't" you rolled your eyes with a slight chuckle.

"she can't, or you think she can't?" Matt questioned, his tone accusatory.

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" you snapped at him

"I think, you've spent your whole life protecting this girl and now, she has someone else to do it for her, and you cant handle that" Matt shrugged

"you're ridiculous." you rolled your eyes at Matt, leaning against the side of the house.

"am I?" Matt scoffed

"yeah, you fuckin' are becau-" just as you were about to give it to Matt straight, you were interrupted by Chris, standing just a few steps away from you both and clearing his throat.

"y/n, can I speak to you?" Chris said, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"what do you want, Chris? if you've come out here to try and act all big and tell me not to speak to you like that I swear to god I-"

"you're right" Chris cut you off.

"What?" you and Matt said in unison, turning to face Chris.

"you're right, okay?"

"I-" you went to speak, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I don't deserve her, n'probably never will, but, I care 'bout her, n'Id never let anything happen to her" Chris shrugged, unable to maintain eye contact with you.

"Chris" you sighed.

"you don't have to tell me the typa guy I am, y/n, I know, but I'm learnin' okay? she's helpin' me learn" He finally looked at you, still unable to look at his brother who was open mouth, gawking at his brothers confession.

You had no idea what to say, Chris just gave you his version of an apology and actually admitted you were right. You couldn't help but feel sorry for him, somewhere, very deep, under all his assholeness, there was an actual human being who, cared about your best friend probably more than he'd ever cared about anyone.

"Chris" you sighed again, "she trusts you, and, if she trusts you then..." you searched your brain for the strength to call it even with him, "I guess I have no choice but to trust you too"

A small smile crept onto Chris' face but he pushed it away almost immediately, the weight of his confession lifting off his shoulders as his usual self floated back into his body.

"If you tell anyone about what I jus' said, i'll get ya kneecaps broken, kay?" he sniffed, wiping his knuckle across his nose for a brief second, "both'a you" Chris looked Matt up and down.

"there he is" Matt chuckled, placing a hand on Chris shoulder

Chris shrugged off Matts hand and sauntered back inside, leaving you two alone again.

You let the moment hang in the air for a moment, smoking your cigarette as Matt stared at the way the butt illuminated your features.

"look, angel, I didn't mean anythi-"

"its okay, I get it, you're right" you interrupted him, rolling your eyes, feeling significantly less angry about everything after Chris' confession.

"okay, did I slip into a different dimension where you and Chris are able to back down from an argument?" Matt chuckled, looking around him as if he was looking for the portal he fell through.

You laughed, shaking your head at him with a smile, "I've been looking out for her our whole lives and, she's always needed me to protect her, I guess it's just tough now that she doesn't, really need that anymore"

"y'know" Matt stepped closer to you, hooking his thumb under your chin, "maybe its time you let someone protect you, for a change"

"oh yeah?" you grinned at him, "and who might that someone be?"

"me" Matt shrugged, edging his lips closer to yours

"you wanna protect me, Matthew?"

"mhm" Matt nodded with a smile just before kissing you, slotting his soft lips over yours with tender pressure.

You kissed him back, the taste of cigarettes thick on his tongue.

"you do look sexy with your knuckles all battered like that" you broke the kiss, taking his hand in yours and pressing small open mouth kisses on his bloodied knuckles

"you little sadist" Matt said, taking your cheeks in his hand, squishing the flesh together between his fingers.

"you love it" you tore his thumb from your cheek and placed it in your mouth, biting down on the bone before wrapping your lips around it.

Matt groaned at the sight of you batting your lashes at him with his thumb in your mouth, he pulled you forward by your jaw and brought you into him, a firm hand catching you by the small of your back as he pulled his thumb from your lips with a pop.

"I do mean it though, angel, it's time you let someone protect you for once" Matt looked down at you, placing his hand around the side of your face, using his grip to make you look at him.

"I can protect myself" you smirked up at him, eyes pouring into his.

Matt smiled and rolled his eyes, lowering his hand on your waist down to your thigh and dropping his shoulder to your stomach. In one swift movement you were over his shoulder.

"Matthew! put me down!" You erupted into laughter, hitting his back as you hung over his shoulder

Your pleads were met with a firm smack on your ass as a prideful grin spread itself across Matts face.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

[visbacktatto]

lazy mornings with vi

you woke up to the soft sunlight entering through the curtains of your shared bedroom, the light gave the room a warm golden glow, the ambience almost as soothing as it was to have vi by your side.

it was one of those rare occasions when your days off aligned, so you had the chance to wake up to your girlfriend clinging to you like a lifeline, her strong arms holding you close, her head resting on your shoulder, one of her legs thrown between yours, her breath warm on your skin.

you mindlessly started tracing her arm that rested on your stomach, following the path up her tattoo before entwining your fingers with hers. the gentle movement got her to stir, instinctually holding your hand and squeezing.

“morning, pretty” she murmurs, her voice heavy with sleep but not any less loving, her hand caressing yours, her lips leaving gentle, featherlight kisses on your neck and shoulder.

you close your eyes, letting out a soft, pleased sigh, “morning, love” you murmur, turning on her embrace to face her, brushing her cheek with your thumb “hi” you smile, not able to contain it when you see her sleepy expression.

vi smiles too, leaning to brush her nose on yours, the cool metal of her nose piercing grazing your warm skin “hi” she replies, pecking your lips, forehead, temple, the tip of your nose, her arms hugging your waist to tug you closer.

“clingy day?” your nearly whisper, your hands going to her pink strands that are smelling exactly like your shampoo today, you notice when you lean to kiss the top of her head, but you wouldn't mention, you know she likes smelling like you.

she just hums in affirmation between kisses on your neck and collarbone, her thumb tracing circles on the skin of your side, “slept well?” she asks.

“yeah, it's always easier when you're home early” you answered, your eyes almost closing at the feeling of her lips and you didn't even think before exposing a little more of your neck for her.

“i know, i swear i'm trying to be done by six everyday” she murmurs, looking up at you, her blue eyes glowing under the gentle sunlight in the room but there was a faint guilt behind them. she's always worried about not giving you enough. attention enough, time enough, love enough.

“i know you're trying” you reassure, cupping her face, she immediately leans into your palm, “and you're succeeding, lately we're even having dinner together, that's progress” you chuckle.

that makes her smile again, she loves your laugh, loves to see your face lightning up so close to hers. “if we could i'd love to spend every day just like this. at home, with you... and maybe a dog”.

to that you smile again, “you want a dog?”

“yeah, maybe” she shrugs, “i'm getting a kitten for powder's birthday, maybe we could get a dog for ourselves too. two birds, one stone.”

you nod, “yeah, maybe” you repeated her words, pulling her a little closer as if that's possible, kissing her shoulder, closing your eyes once again to savour the warmth of her body seeping into yours, her bare chest against you.

she relaxes too, closing her own eyes, but holding you a bit tighter, as if you'd try to move away, as if she wouldn't survive not having you right there with her.

and you mindlessly plant kisses on her shoulder, up to her neck, and finally on her lips, starting a tender kiss that she answers to, you could feel a scar on her upper lip and her hands going to your hips to press you together.

she always kissed like it was the first and last time, one of her hands sliding up your body to find your nape and the back of your hair, angling your lips just enough to make the kiss even better. it's practice. she knows you better than yourself at this point.

and you couldn't help but dig your fingers on her back, almost scratching the tattooed skin, you know she likes it more than she'd ever say out loud.

and when the kiss ends it's gentle, her forehead resting against yours while you catch your breath.

then she leans to peck your lips one last time, her hands leaving your body just to adjust the sheets around you, “one more nap?” she offers, a smile on her lips as much as it was on her eyes.

[sailorblossoms-rankane]

We know Ranma falls first and hard, so what about Akane? When does it start? unlike Ranma, I think it's a couple of things adding up in the background... and why wouldn't it start... here? walk with me

Doctor Tofu is kind to Akane, but I'd say the main reason she had a crush on him was: he was the one male figure outside of her family who made her feel safe. Taking care of her injuries would feel like a form of protection, and Akane wants to feel protected.

It's not just that Akane shows her fiery personality in fights... I recently noticed that while other fighters can show themselves cool and confident in the face of danger (like Ranma). But with Akane, she fights as if she never feels safe in a fight, you can see it. Even when she's the strongest and is winning every morning...

Winning every day could have made her approach these guys looking more "confident" or "relaxed," but she's never relaxed. She always sends Kuno flying, but notice how there's an air of uneasiness (even if she sees him as a buffoon) that doesn't disappear until Ranma comes into the picture.

Ranma showing up as a girl helps Akane relax and reach out as she's too used to being harassed by guys (so she keeps her distance). But even if she finds out his secret in the worst way, she doesn't beat his ass until he's picking on her.

Akane is the one offering the friendly match (connection) but Ranma is also doing something likely no one has ever done with her before: he's being soft, maybe even tender, with her... making her relax. he's making her feel safe (Ranma doesn't fight any other girl like this)

The bathroom incident makes her feel afraid, but when boy Ranma shows himself again, it's clear by the way she stops any attempt of violence to study him (and argue childishly) that the fear is gone. She's tested in the worst way (a way that plays into her worst fears about men, which is hard to shake)... but this tells you she still feels safe, even if she doesn't realize it.

If someone like Kuno had made fun of her proportions, Akane would've beaten him up and moved on. The fact that she's still thinking about it long after the fact tells you he's already stirring something (it's even connected with Ranma thinking about her because he too is also feeling something)

Part of Ranma "falling first" is that he sees her best very straightforwardly from the get-go (and is confused after). With Akane, she isn't even sure of what she's seeing, she's still dealing with her complicated feelings connected to the doc and constant harassment... but she's already interested.

It's obvious that Akane lives rent-free 24/7 in Ranma's head from the moment he meets her, but Akane is not exactly unaffected. It isn't accurate to say he only annoys her at this stage. She pays attention, confides with him, worries, goes after/covers for him... that's interest

You need to pull a rope from both ends to create tension.

Romantic tension requires both parties to feel something, and they already have plenty when Akane tries to help Ranma, and he is protecting her during the fight against Ryoga. Even if she still hasn't sorted out her old crush...

Akane wishes for and values normalcy (she actually has a life) but she only feels normal when compared to the clowns that arrive after Ranma. It's clear by the way her classmates see her that she's an extraordinary girl...

She loves martial arts, but doesn't have the sort of ambitions the insane fighters around Ranma have. She sees it more as a fun outlet, comparable to having a favorite sport. She only holds on to power when someone pisses her off (spite lol) but always chooses normalcy over it

Ranma brings both craziness and safety into her life. You can really see that with Kuno and the guys challenging her: Akane is comfortable supporting Ranma as he navigates the craziness around him, but she isn't comfortable when SHE is at the center of it

Ranma either stands by her side during the madness or straight-up redirects the focus on him (starting from the moment Kuno throws that rose to Akane and Ranma is immediately by her side, ending taking the challenge against Kuno himself). Akane might complain about Ranma "fighting her fights" here, but she quickly gives in to his protection (unless someone is pissing her off... spite, she's just like me fr etc)

In true gag fashion, when Ranma picks on her for her attention, he’s both giving her an outlet and making fighting, which she connected to danger and harassment, a very safe and childish thing. It allows her to relax in a way she hasn’t before he meets him.

When Ranma complimenting her smiles gets to her to the point she's still thinking about it hours after, or that Ranma essentially saying he likes her better as her true self makes her genuinely happy... it doesn't come out of nowhere. She's already been feeling something for him

[sam-out-of-energy]

The angst, THE ANGST its consuming me

I had to write something based off this ask because oH MY GODD

This already became too long so its a cliffhanger sorry teehee

______

They'd been ambushed.

Upon trying to retrieve materials for Ratchet the entire base had suddenly sounded the alarm for intruders.

Prowl had quickly scooped Jazz from a pile of metal scrap into his servo and then inside his cockpit. They'd ran, making it to the very end of the hangar before mechas had walled them off.

It was a stand-off- well- emphasis on was, as it had taken about two nano-seconds of Prowl and the others standing there against mechas before Vortex had already began tearing robots apart.

Now chaos reigned as the crew, including Prowl, Jazz, Vortex and First aid, were in the ringer, fighting off an overwhelming amount of mechas.

"It's like they knew we were coming!" First aid comm'd Jazz while the two sat inside cockpits that were trembling from the punches, the mech's visors coated in an unhealthy layer of energon and oil.

"These ain't normal mechas either." Jazz replied.

"Explain?" Prowl's voice was eerily casual considering the situation at hand, wrenching an arm off an opposing mecha before kicking them back.

"They're faster! Stronger too-" First aid noted, watching intensely from Vortex's visor, admittedly a little curious.

"No doubt they used Prowl's parts to rebuild them."

"To hell with 'em! Let's be done with this and go-"

Jazz was caught mid-sentence when Prowl shook.

The inside of the cockpit pulsed, like something had struck him, which confused Jazz because for a short while they'd kept a good distance from the mechas.

Then Prowl just....stood. Very still. Very still.

"Prowl? Prowler?" Jazz scooted forwards and grabbed the controls, pushing them but they didn't budge. Nothing did.

"Prowl?! You're not obeyin' my controls-" Jazz questioned.

"I'm- not- obeying- my own controls either-" Prowl choked out, straining his joints with a loud creak.

["Hello Jazz."]

Both the pilot and mecha stiffened.

Jazz's eyes widened. He recognized the voice that suddenly rang out inside Prowl.

"Shockwave?! Where are you! What've you done t' Prowl?!" Jazz jumped up from the pilot seat (not having been strapped in to begin with)

["I am nowhere you need to concern yourself with. I am simply testing out my new technology."]

Jazz looked around. He could hear a muffled First Aid calling out for Vortex in the distance.

["So, Prowl, was it?. Good to know. Now, let's get well acquainted."]

Prowl shook again, sending Jazz tumbling around as the mech bent over, clutching his helm.

Something flashed. Prowl felt electricity buzzing inside of him, phantom pains in his joints. Like his wing was once again broken, like his optics were busted in and losing vision of reality arround him. His body wasn't his and it wouldn't listen to him.

He tried to keep his expression cool at the face of this new threat but his coolness came crashing down when he looked up.

Quintessons. So. Many. Quintessons. Fire, blazing high like a giant barrier.

The realization struck him like his processor's loud ERROR alarm.

He was on Praxus.

No, he was- no-

Prowl felt like hurling.

He felt something inside him twist and turn, something wicked. Something unnatural, something that was definetly not meant to be inside him.

-

Jazz could do nothing but watch his mech tremble and shake, straining and squirming like something was crawling under his plating.

"J- azz-" Prowl gasped.

"Prowl! I'm here!" Jazz called out, grabbing the controls tigthly despite the fact that they were moving.

"H- elp-"

The plea came out in a stuttered, glitching mess but it was all Prowl needed to say before Jazz began pushing. Pushing, pulling. Whenever the stick moved one way he'd move it back.

"Shockwave, stop! Let him go!" He yelled. He didn't know what sick game the mad scientist was playing but he was not about to let him take Prowl from him.

["It is futile, pilot. Give up."]

Jazz grit his teeth and kept pushing.

Prowl's fight was made easier, so he managed to break free of the illusion for long enough to push with Jazz, taking a step back on his own from the (imaginary) fire surrounding him. (It was all his in his head, surely). Coolant rushed down Prowl's backplates, his motors overexerting themselves to keep control to himself.

["...I see how it must be. Very well, Jazz."]

Prowl was jerked away from his mindscape, straggling, back into the frey, loud echoes of crashing and crumbling of metal plating and concrete. The mechas weren't focusing on him, focusing all their efforts into trying to stop Vortex from tearing down the entire hangar.

Prowl had managed to take two steps forward to go assist before he'd felt more electricity surge through him. Oddly enough, it didn't stop him this time.

What did stop him was the pained scream that carried into Prowl's audials.

Jazz.

"Jazz? Jazz!" Prowl called, stopping and looking down at his chest.

Jazz clutched his head, crying out. Something coursed through him like a painful needle and thread, connecting him to Prowl even more than before, but not in a good way. In a way that hurt, every muscle in his body clenching. It was like he was connecting to a mecha for the first time again, but the feeling of it amplified twicefold.

Then, it was like he saw his own body slump. No, he was slumped. Jazz couldn't move, couldn't speak or scream anymore (In reality he was still screaming).

No, no no no no-

He saw white. A bright light in his eyes. A smell of burning flesh, of ethanol, medical grade liquids in multitudes.

Eyes. He saw faceless masks and he saw so many eyes, shining like the headlights of a car, blinding him into submission, into staying silent despite the aching.

Make it stop, make it stop-

-

"Stop!! Don't hurt him!"

Prowl demanded, the cockpit echoing with his voice, layered over Jazz's screams.

["I will do what is necessary."]

Prowl called for Jazz's name again, opening the cockpit hatch, desperate to reach in and grab the other, until he realized he was still in the middle of a Vortex vs. Vortex's victims skirmish and pulling Jazz out could only risk him accidentally dropping the other or Jazz being hit by something.

Prowl stepped back from the fight, wracking his processor. He had to do something, something to help!

It was easier with him, Jazz could just use the controls to help him fight against this weird virus, but Jazz? Shockwave was most likely inside Jazz's head due to his connection with Prowl, what could Prowl even do to help?! He couldn't forcefully remove or disconnect Jazz. The other was wriggling and twisting in pain, Prowl's servos were way too big to do anything with him without causing further injury.

An anti-virus, a firewall. Something to block Shockwave out. Prowl had to reboot and rewire his systems for that and all of that had to begin with getting Shockwave to release Jazz.

"Please, stop-" Prowl half-blurted out amidst his panicking. He couldn't tell what was happening to Jazz, but he could feel the other. He felt Jazz clutching the arm rest of the pilot's seat, thrashing and kicking on the cold metal of the cockpit floor. He heard Jazz scream and wail, inaudibly begging for release.

["I will stop when you relinquish control to me."]

"So you can use me?" Prowl snapped, his engine revving from the anger, his optic ridge bent down so hard it almost covered his optics.

["As you wish."]

Jazz went silent.

Prowl heard the thump of a body hitting the floor.

[wileys-russo]

frido "stop picking me up when you don't get your way" tall frido supremacy 😌

drowned rat II f.rolfö

you exhaled happily at the way your skin felt like it was near glowing, bathed in the radiantly warm glow of the mallorca sun. you could practically feel every little thought from your head draining like water from a tub the longer you lay there.

a tiny voice in the back of your head told you to flip over, or maybe apply a new layer of sunscreen, but they were drowned out by the much louder more dominant voice reminding you were just so comfortable.

"you will burn if you lay here much longer." you were pulled from your semi drowzy state by a new voice of reason, one which no matter what you simply couldn't ignore as you turned your head to the side and cracked open an eye.

"they call it sun baking, not sun burning." you mumbled with a lazy smile, the blonde laid down beside you chuckling but still her gaze bore into you knowingly.

"can you do my back for me?" you sighed giving in, laughing as within seconds the swede was up and on her feet, rifling through the tote bag you'd brought for the little blue bottle.

"oh please do get comfortable." you teased feeling her sit down on the back of your thighs, words muffled as you rested your chin on your forearms. "fridolina!" you hissed a little louder as her hand smacked then massaged your bikini covered ass.

"what? we don't want this burnt do we älskade?" your girlfriend tutted, though quickly moving her strong hands to massage the sunscreen into your upper back instead as you hummed skeptically.

"you are going to get us kicked off the beach again." you warned with a roll of your eyes, sneakily taking her sunglasses which sat abandoned on her towel next to yours and slipping them on.

"that was one time and it was a harmless accident." the older girl grumbled and you smiled imagining the embarrassed blush which would be coating her cheeks.

"mmm yes it is hilarious when your girlfriend unties your bikini top and exposes your breasts to several small children and you get a letter in the mail from council fining you for public indecency." you grumbled at the memory.

"that better be a cough and not a laugh rolfö!" you warned sharply hearing her snicker, turning your head to glare up at her, eyes shielded by the sunglasses covering your face.

"i said i was very very sorry." the blonde leaned down to tenderly kiss your shoulder blade as you scoffed, her large hands still softly massaging the cream into your sun kissed skin.

"no you did not. you paid the fine, laughed in my face and very proudly told everyone at training the next day!" you reminded hearing her snicker again, a couple of soft taps to the back of your neck indicating she was done.

"well then i am now saying i am very very sorry?" "mhm, sure darling." you hummed, reaching around to pat her side in thanks, knowing all too well she was not in fact sorry and you wouldn't put it past her to do it again.

"come for a swim? the water is gorgeous." you felt her get up off of you, her foot poking your side as you swatted it away with a shake of your head. "not yet, maybe later." you declined, far too happy in the sun, your girlfriend often teasing you were actually solar powered.

"you said that earlier! kom igen, en snabb simtur." she pleaded in swedish, normally something which was sure to break your resolve finding it incredibly attractive but today seemed to be the exception as you wordlessly shook your head and made no move to get up.

"later." you repeated, eyes closing and exhaling happily, assuming she would just take herself to cool off as she had done earlier. "now?" or, no such luck.

"i just said no!" "no, you said later. it is now later."

"why are you being so insistent? we're on holidays baby, just relax." you sighed, eyes closing again as silence fell though you could feel her shadow lingering over you.

"you are blocking my sun rolfö, that is a dangerous game." you warned, but before you could say another word you felt yourself being lifted into the air and scrambled to grab the loose ties of the back of your bikini, very much not eager for a repeat of last time but also quite keen to avoid tan lines where you could.

"fridolina put me down!" you demanded, hoisted up and over her shoulder like a sack of potatos, cheeks flushing red with colour as wary eyes watched you from strangers sat a few feet away on the sand.

"like you said hjärtat we are on holidays! it is so warm, i think you need to cool off." her tone was teasing and your pleas to be put down fell on deaf ears as she strode across the sand toward the ocean.

"okay okay you win! just put me down and let me adjust at my own speed, please?" you pleaded as she arrived at the waters edge, wading in until the water hit her upper thigh and you sighed in relief when she came to a stop.

"oh you want me to put you down?" you heard the grin in her voice even if you were facing the other way. "don't you dare!" your hand smacked against her toned bare back with a loud crack of warning knowing exactly what the taller girl was thinking.

"baby i am just doing what you tell me! so fussy." the blonde tutted in her accented english and you whined and huffed your annoyance with her as she waded in even deeper.

grabbing onto the waistband of her bikini bottoms you yanked them upwards in a final desperate attempt to stop her, however it would seem that worked even more against you as with a yelp of surprise sounding from the blonde your body was plunged into the freezing depths.

your feet pushed up against the sandy bank and you surfaced with a splutter, your hair covering your face as you gasped trying to catch your breath which had been snatched from you with the sudden temperature change, never having been one for the cold unlike your proud scandi girlfriend.

"a wedgie? you give me a wedgie?" the blonde in question laughed, pushing a small wave of water in your direction as half of it filled your mouth and you choked, spitting it out and glaring at her as best you could through the hair which covered your face.

"so immature raring, really." frido sighed sarcastically with a shake of her head as you scoffed, launching yourself at her and dunking her head back under the water managing to catch her off guard.

"immature? i am the immature one?" you grunted, trying to dunk her again but squealing as she stood up to her full height, body wet and slippery as you tried to cling on but she threw you back into the water without any sort of struggle.

"stop picking me up when you don't get your way!" you warned, flicking your head back as your hair finally flew out of your face and you exhaled, body slowly adjusting to the oceans low temperature and admittedly now it was quite pleasant once you had.

"aw but you are so small baby, like a cute little mouse." the blonde swam closer and cooed teasingly, earning herself a glare as her hands found the back of your thighs, settling herself in the water and pulling your legs to wrap around her waist.

"eller en dränkt råtta." the defender grinned, walking out a little deeper still holding onto you as you pushed your hair to the side of your head and narrowed your eyes.

"a drowned rat she says!" you scoffed smacking her shoulder playfully as she let out a loud pelt of laughter, looking at you with a cheeky grin you couldn't help but melt at.

"oh your swedish is getting very good." "we have been together for nearly three years! rövhål."